


That Which We Call A Rose

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Planet, Ecology, Five Year Mission, Friends to Lovers, Geology, Lots and lots of Pining, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Tenderness, episode format, it's all about the yearning... the ~longing~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: When Kirk goes missing on a mysterious planet, Spock stays behind to look for him. But the planet is not what it seems, and in order to save his captain, Spock will have to reveal his deepest secret.Canon compliant. Episode format.Written for the T'hy'la Bang 2020.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 64
Kudos: 200
Collections: T’hy’la Bang 2020





	1. Prologue (Gardenia)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful artist, [nightly-trekking](https://nightly-trekking.tumblr.com/) ♡ I couldn't have asked for a kinder partner. Your talent and imagination are truly inspiring. From Sad Chicken to Nightly Birdie: a hearty 'cluck' and a gentle peck on the cheek! Check out her breathtaking art [here](https://nightly-trekking.tumblr.com/post/621895605362540544/that-which-we-call-a-rose-chapter-1)!
> 
> A big thank you to my beta and dear friend, [celestialwarzone](https://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/). I couldn't have done this without you ♡ You gave me the confidence to be true to myself and to stick to my writing style no matter what. You also made me laugh out loud with your witty commentary!
> 
> This story means a lot to me. Writing it taught me so much about myself and helped me cope when I was feeling down. So I'd like to thank the mods for hosting this wonderful event. Here's to next year!
> 
> I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7jQoQM3AqTbxQEnIFszNQ4?si=jCUZd11xTquBZfZaF_OCHw) for this fic, [click here to listen](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7jQoQM3AqTbxQEnIFszNQ4?si=jCUZd11xTquBZfZaF_OCHw) ♡

_art by the wonderful[nightly-trekking](https://nightly-trekking.tumblr.com/)_

* * *

The turbolift’s double doors swooshed open and Jim Kirk stepped out onto the bridge. The low chimes and peals of the computers greeted him as he walked towards his chair.

A deep, gentle voice called for him over the humming of the _Enterprise_ ’s engines. “Captain,” it said. Spock’s voice.

Jim turned to face his first officer. For a moment, he wondered why the bridge was so empty – the crew, not at their posts – but then his eyes met Spock’s. He took a step forward and they were suddenly standing face to face. “Yes, Mister Spock?”

Spock tilted his head to the side. “My report, sir,” he said, and Jim noticed the PADD Spock was holding against his science-blue uniform; the rise and fall of his chest beneath it, a little unsteady, a little too fast…

“Thank you,” Jim answered, reaching to take the PADD. Spock held it out, but their proximity made Jim fumble clumsily to wrap his fingers around the edge – when he did, it wasn’t cold metal that he felt against his skin, but the softness of Spock’s hand, cooler than a human’s touch. Jim looked down to see their fingers brushing over the PADD; the striking difference between his reddening fingertips and the tinge of green spreading across Spock’s knuckles…

“Jim,” Spock whispered, and they both looked up. The bridge was empty; there was no one in sight – only them and the _Enterprise_ , whirring and beeping around them, a quiet witness to their closeness.

The PADD fell to the floor, but Jim’s eyes remained on Spock. Their fingers interlaced, they pressed their palms together, and the sweetest sigh escaped Spock’s lips. “Jim,” he whispered again, leaning in slightly.

“Spock, I –” Jim breathed, but the words, for so long left unspoken, got stuck in his throat. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Spock’s hand, and Spock leaned in, closer still. Everything went silent; even the ship seemed to hold her breath as they stood there, almost touching, and then…

Lips against lips; eyelids fluttering closed; shyness at first, quickly replaced with heat as Jim deepened the kiss. Those cold hands on his hips, slipping under his shirt, grazing his skin, stopping to feel his heartbeat, and he couldn’t get enough, more and more and more, his own hands sliding down Spock’s back, his lips finding the tip of a pointed ear, more and more and more –

Jim opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of his quarters. The _Enterprise_ ’s engines droned peacefully.

“Computer, what time is it?”

A chirp of acknowledgement. “It is now 0335 hours, ship time.”

 _Zero three thirty-five hours_. Jim sighed, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. “Lights,” he ordered, sitting up in bed.

As the lights came on, Jim reached for a book out of his collection of antique hardcovers. His arm brushed the bouquet of gardenias he’d picked up earlier from the botanical lab, and the scent of it wafted through his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Plant and flower symbolism:**  
>  · Gardenia: symbolizes purity and sweetness. They indicate secret love.


	2. Begonia

_Captain’s log, stardate 5623.4. While conducting a survey of the Taj 24 Nebula in the outer regions of our galaxy’s spiral arm, we’ve encountered a scientific mystery. A class M planet, existing on its own: no star system, no orbit. We’ve launched several probes to study the planet’s surface, and they have returned intact. I’ve decided to beam down for further investigation._

The transporter room was rarely so full of blue shirts: a complete science team, led by Spock, in addition to Bones. Two security guards were standing near the transporter pods, awaiting orders. Jim would be the only gold shirt in the landing party.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Captain,” Scotty said from behind the console. “A planet with no sun, and so close to the nebula...”

Jim smiled reassuringly at his chief engineer. “We’ve already agreed; we’re not taking any unnecessary risks.”

“Our sensor readings are conclusive, Mister Scott,” Spock chimed in. “It is a class M planet, nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, suitable for human and humanoid life.”

Scotty made a face. “Aye, but... couldn’t it be a trick? An illusion?”

“Impossible,” Spock replied. “The samples collected by our probes are real.”

Jim nodded and, thinking that it would be enough to ease Scotty’s mind, turned towards the transporter platform.

“What’s impossible, Spock, is the very existence of this planet,” Bones said moodily.

“Quite true, doctor,” Spock replied. “By all the rules of physics and logic, this planet should not exist. And yet it does.”

Jim looked back at his officers, more than a little impatient. “Which is why, gentlemen, we’re beaming down to get a closer look.”

Spock nodded and gestured towards his science team. All four of them obediently climbed onto the platform and waited to be transported. Jim recognized geologist Mahmood, exobotanist Sanders and geophysicist Woźniak. The fourth scientist was a young Edosian ensign, no doubt newly transferred.

Spock joined his team, and all five of them waited as Jim took his place at the center pod. Bones and the two security guards would follow.

“I still think we’re too close to that nebula,” Scotty said, even as he punched in the coordinates. “It’s causing too much interference with our instruments.”

“We’ve discussed this, Mister Scott.” Jim suppressed a sigh. He constantly encouraged his crew to speak up and work together as a team, but really, this wasn’t a democracy.

“Aye, sir,” the chief engineer relented, although his brow was creased with worry.

Jim gave him another reassuring smile, then turned to the landing party. “Set your hoverlights to maximum level,” he said. Looking back at Scotty, he ordered, “energize.”

As the transporter chime covered all other sounds, Jim wondered if he wasn’t being reckless. All scans, tests, and probes had indicated that this was safe, but space was unpredictable. A planet existing on its own in this great big nothingness, right next to an emission nebula, and capable of supporting life too… it did seem a little far-fetched, too strange to be trusted. But they had been sent out here to explore, and risk was their business.

The shimmering light of the transporter beam slowly faded, and Jim felt a familiar flutter of excitement – the first sight of a new world was always a thrilling experience. As expected, the planet’s surface was buried in shadow. Jim activated his hoverlight, and the small, clam-shaped machine thrummed as it came to life and started hovering a few inches above his head. The rest of the landing party did the same, and soon there were nine rays of artificial light piercing the darkness.

From the little he could see, Jim knew the probes hadn’t lied: not only did life exist on this planet, apparently it thrived. They had beamed down in what appeared to be a forest, and they were surrounded by lush vegetation; turquoise shrubberies and verdant bushes, delicate blue-tinted trees and flowers of every sort.

Spock’s tricorder was already out. In the bright white glow of the hoverlights, Jim watched the Vulcan’s slender fingers fly over the controls, pushing buttons and adjusting readings. It was… _fascinating_ to watch him at work, eyes alight with curiosity. Jim couldn’t help but stare. A soft breeze ruffled Spock’s bangs, and for a second he closed his eyes, seeming to take in the sweet scent of the abundant local flora. Just a split second of utter stillness, utter peace... and then he opened his eyes and looked up. Jim quickly looked away.

“Due to interference with the ship’s instruments,” Spock addressed the landing party, “this region will be inaccessible to the Enterprise once it is facing the nebula.”

“That means no communication and no transporter,” Jim added. “We can stay here as long as we’re facing away from the nebula, but once the planet completes its rotation, we’re beaming back up. That gives us...” Jim glanced at Spock.

“Approximately 8.2 hours,” Spock finished.

Eight hours in this darkness, with nothing but their own hoverlights to lead the way. The planet’s sole source of light was the nebula, but due to all the static-discharging gas that impaired the Enterprise’s instruments, they had to remain on the continent that faced _away_ from the nebula. However, the planet’s rotation would eventually place the landing party right under Taj 24, and, in consequence, out of the ship’s reach. Which meant that during the planet’s ‘daytime’, they’d be stranded. They needed to finish their survey before then, and they had no choice but to do so in total darkness.

No time to lose.

“Alright,” Jim gestured towards the security officers, “Mister Freeman, you’re with the science team. Lieutenant Hunjan, you stay with me and the doctor. Keep your communicators on you at all times. Rendezvous here in 4 hours for preliminary reports.”

As Spock led the science team away and further into the forest, Bones clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the trees. “And what are we supposed to do for four hours?”

Jim looked out towards the dark horizon and grinned. “Explore.”

* * *

Spock changed the settings on his hoverlight to narrow the ray of light emanating from it. He then directed it towards the plant he was currently studying: a species of flowering herbs remarkably similar to Earth’s _begonia_ genus. The flower itself was small and round, pink petals layered to create a near-perfect circle. Spock lifted his hand to gently brush his fingers over it – it was soft and delicate, exactly like its Terran homologue.

“Lieutenant Sanders,” Spock called the exobotanist, “I would like a full scan and report on this plant.”

Sanders, who had been inspecting bioluminescent sap from a nearby tree, flipped her ponytail behind her back and shifted her attention towards the plant in question. As she got closer, Spock noted her slight intake of breath – the suppression of a sigh. Evidently, the young woman found small pink flowers uninteresting next to the myriad of unknown alien plants surrounding her. Nevertheless, she ran a tricorder scan over the flower. When the readings came in, she frowned.

“A multicellular, photosynthetic eukaryote. Unisexual male and female flowers existing separately on the same plant…”

“Similar to Earth’s begonia,” Spock said.

Sanders shook her head, still frowning at her tricorder. “No, sir, not just similar… _exactly_ the same. Which shouldn’t be possible at all: with no sun and a completely different soil, something like this shouldn’t be able to grow here.”

“Indeed.”

“Most plant life around here is photosynthetic, but it’s almost as if…” Lieutenant Sanders hesitated, “…almost as if it’s pretending to be that way.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Well – if I direct my tricorder scan onto the plant, I can read it taking in the carbon dioxide produced by, say, our breathing, and I can also read it reintroducing oxygen to the atmosphere,” Sanders changed a setting on her tricorder, then added, “but if I set my scan on the atmosphere itself, I see absolutely no change at all: no oxygen-carbon dioxide exchange, nothing. There’s always the possibility of anoxygenic photosynthesis, but in that case why does my tricorder pick up oxygen in the plant?”

“Are you suggesting that this is a conscious deception?”

Sanders looked around her uncomfortably. “It sure seems like it, sir. I have a feeling that someone is trying to trick us into believing that this is a perfectly normal planet.”

“I will require more than ‘a feeling’, lieutenant, when I report to the captain in 2.7 hours,” Spock said.

“Yes, sir,” Sanders nodded.

Spock looked back at the begonias, now lightly swaying in the breeze. Nothing on this planet behaved as it should – its very existence was utterly illogical. This was unlike anything he’d ever encountered before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Plant and flower symbolism:**  
>  · Begonia: warnings about future misfortunes or challenges.


	3. Geranium

Jim leaned against a tree and switched off his hoverlight. There were no stars, no light from the sky – in fact, it almost looked like there was no sky at all.

“It’s unsettling, isn’t it?” Bones said, looking up.

“Yes…” Jim replied pensively. “Like someone turned off all the lights in the galaxy.”

Bones shivered. “Now that’s a chilling thought.”

“What’s the matter, doctor?” Jim teased, “Not enjoying the mission?”

“As a matter of fact, Captain, no I’m not. We’ve spent the better part of four hours walking around in complete darkness, scanning things that shouldn’t be there and coming to the same conclusion each and every time: this entire planet makes no sense.”

Jim nodded slowly. They’d walked through the forest and made several interesting discoveries – a river, a small prairie, a few caves – but it only left them with more unanswered questions. How could life such as this exist on a world with no sun?

“Captain,” Lieutenant Hunjan called, “six lights coming our way.”

“The science team is back,” Jim pushed himself off the tree and hurried to meet his officers. Bones followed close behind, clutching his medkit.

At the head of the team was Spock, looking as fresh and alert as when they’d first beamed down. Jim suppressed a sigh of relief. The rest of the party was visibly tired, but no one was injured.

“Welcome back,” Jim greeted his first officer with a smile. “How did it go?”

Spock’s eyes flickered in the glow of the hoverlights, dark and alien. “We’ve gathered several fascinating specimens for analysis. Dr. Woźniak and Lieutenant Sanders will have to beam aboard the Enterprise to conduct their research.”

Jim nodded towards the officers in question, silently giving the order. He watched as they drew their communicators and asked to be beamed aboard, and then waited for them to fade before turning back to Spock. “And the rest of the science team?”

Spock hesitated. He held his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. Jim frowned. “What is it, Spock?”

Behind them, Bones was holding his medical tricorder over the Edosian ensign’s chest, but his eyes were on the first officer. Something was wrong, and it was becoming obvious that Spock wouldn’t voice his concerns in front of the landing party. Jim placed his hand on Spock’s sleeve and gently pulled him aside. He heard Bones trying to diffuse the tension by joking with the rest of the landing party.

Once they were out of earshot, Jim looked up at Spock expectantly. By now, he really was worried. “What’s wrong?”

Spock leaned in closer. “Although there is no conclusive proof,” he said, “I believe something – or some _one_ – is on this planet, and their intentions are not entirely peaceful.”

For a moment, their eyes met, and Jim’s breath caught at how close they were standing. He ignored the flip his stomach did and frowned. “Explain.”

Spock’s eyebrows inched closer together. “The science team has observed several occurrences in which what we perceive does not correlate with what our tricorders indicate. In fact, what we see, smell and touch seems to be at odds with scanner readings.”

“An illusion then? Collective hallucinations?”

“Negative, Captain. There is no outside influence on us. However, something is affecting the plant life and atmosphere – changing it, perhaps, in order to conceal its true nature.”

Jim rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “That’s a bit vague, Spock.”

“I shall need more time to determine how and why this is happening.”

“But you think it’s potentially dangerous? That someone is trying to… trick us?”

Spock nodded. “It is a possibility.” He turned slightly towards the rest of the landing party. “I have not yet shared my concerns with the science team.”

“Yes, the last thing we need is nervous officers. I’ll talk to Freeman and Hunjan, they’ll keep an eye out. You have four more hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Spock returned to the now-reduced science team, Bones came up to Jim, frowning. “Is there anything I should know about?” he asked.

“Just stay close to the science team at all times. We won’t be splitting up anymore.”

“That’s almost as disturbing as your comment about the sky,” Bones complained.

Jim looked up at the great darkness above. Beneath his boots, the ground suddenly felt colder.

* * *

“Fascinating,” Spock spoke under his breath. He held his tricorder higher, recording new readings, but the results were the same.

Oxygen was being produced… by a boulder. A large boulder with a smooth surface; no trace of fungi or mold clinging to it, just a rock. And yet it was emitting oxygen the way the begonias had.

Lieutenant Sanders had suggested the planet’s vegetation might be a deception. If Spock were to follow that reasoning, then this boulder could mean two things: either it was a flaw in the illusion, indicating that it was operated by a flawed hand; or it was an intentional defect, an error left there on purpose to give away the deception… in either case, the breathing boulder pointed to one thing: a sentient being was behind this.

Spock pressed his palm to the rock. A tremor went through his arm, a thrum of life that pushed against his mental barriers. He raised an eyebrow. Odd – a boulder shouldn’t be telepathically accessible…

“Mister Spock,” the captain’s voice called quietly, and Spock looked up to see him standing approximately 80.7 centimeters away. “Any progress?”

Spock removed his hand from the boulder, but the thrum remained, spiraling around the inner corners of his mind. “Only theories, Captain,” he said tonelessly. His heart rate had increased at the sound of Jim’s voice.

Naturally, the boulder hadn’t been responsible for the surge of telepathic activity. As a touch-telepath, Spock’s first reflex had been to turn to the object he had touched – however, there was another explanation, one that Spock usually tried not to think about.

“We’ve only got two more hours left,” the captain said.

The hoverlights were casting soft shadows across the Human’s face and neck, and Spock took a second too long to answer. “We might need more –”

“No, I’m sorry, Spock. Two hours until we beam up, not a second more. Any longer than that and we’d have to spend the day here. I’m not taking that risk.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The captain smiled encouragingly, silently letting Spock know that he was doing a good job – a charming habit, and the mark of a great leader. As Jim walked away, Spock took a moment to regain control. It was getting more and more difficult to ignore the pressure against his mental walls. He knew its origin, and he knew what it meant. But he would not address it – _could_ not, it was unthinkable…

He had to get back to work. Only one hour, forty-nine minutes left, and all he had were theories and hypotheses.

“Ensign Rajax,” Spock called the young Edosian, who sauntered over excitedly. “Scan all minerals, from large rock formations to pebbles, then share your readings with geologist Mahmood. She will undoubtedly find them interesting.”

“Aye, sir,” Rajax answered, “If I may ask, sir: what exactly are we looking for?”

“That, Ensign, is precisely the answer that evades us.”

It would be illogical to deny it: they were in the dark, both literally and figuratively. The best Spock could do now was pursue the theory that made the most sense. He would not usually theorize before accumulating more facts, but time was running out.

Ensign Rajax crouched next to a rock, picked it up with one hand and held her tricorder over it with the other, using her third hand to scratch her bald head. Spock left her to her work. He still needed a few samples, most importantly water from the stream, and –

A shudder went through the ground, and before Spock had the time to wonder what it was, another stronger lurch propelled him forward. An earthquake. Spock tried to reach for his communicator, but the tremors were now so powerful that he lost his balance and fell, losing the communicator as well. He saw it bounce on the rocks a few meters ahead. He pushed himself towards it on his hands and knees, but the quakes were so close together that they were near-constant, and a particularly violent jolt heaved his body into the air before gravity slammed him back down on the ground.

Pain spread across his arm and shoulder, but Spock ignored it. He had just watched the earth crack open and swallow his communicator. To his right, a tree had fallen. The world was still shaking around him. As the tremors subsided, Spock found he was out of breath. He took 12 seconds to recover, then pushed himself off the ground.

His hoverlight was still floating above him, undamaged. Looking around, Spock saw Ensign Rajax lying face down on the rocky floor. He hurried to help her up, asking if she was injured.

“I’m fine, Commander, thank you,” she said as she got to her feet.

“Do you have your communicator?” Spock asked.

“Yes, sir.” Rajax held out the device and Spock took it, flipping it open.

“Spock to landing party.”

There was a buzz and a whine, then Doctor McCoy’s voice answered. “ _McCoy here. Where are you, Spock?_ ”

“I am on the east side of the river. Ensign Rajax is with me. We are uninjured.”

“ _Freeman is badly hurt; I need to get him to sickbay_.”

“Where are you, doctor?”

“ _Just outside the forest. Spock –”_

“We will be there shortly.”

Attaching the communicator to his belt, Spock set off with Rajax following close behind. His mind was droning with one thought: _the captain had not answered_. Following the laws of probability, it could be that –

But Spock could not let his mind digress. As they reached the border of the forest, he made a rough mental calculation of the distance they’d covered. Over one kilometer. The captain had left to join McCoy and the others 7.3 minutes before the earthquake. That meant that unless he was running, Jim could not have reached them. And yet Spock had seen no sign of him anywhere…

“Over here,” Doctor McCoy called, just as Spock and Rajax stepped out of the dense shrubbery.

The doctor was crouching next to the unmoving figure of Security Officer Freeman. When he looked up, his blue eyes were wide and unblinking. A few meters ahead, Hunjan lay lifeless, her red uniform bright against the pale yellow grass. Lieutenant Mahmood sat next to the body, her face buried in her hands.

“She’s dead, Spock,” McCoy sighed heavily. Spock felt a pang of grief for the young woman – an appropriate emotion, considering the circumstances. However, the twinge of worry that followed was not entirely logical.

“Where is the captain?” Spock’s voice echoed in the steppe.

The doctor drew in a deep breath. “The earthquake – there was a landslide, and the ground split open… I didn’t see it, Spock, but Lieutenant Mahmood did. I – I’m sorry…”

Instinctively, Spock’s mind reached out. It almost escaped his notice, but he reeled his consciousness in, back behind the walls he’d built years ago. This was no time for weakness. He could not allow himself to give in. Straightening up, he stared at Mahmood, whose shoulders were shaking with sorrow. He was determined to ask more questions before coming to any conclusions.

“I still need to get this man to sickbay,” McCoy said.

Spock pulled out the communicator. “Spock to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise.”

“ _Scott here, sir_.”

“Mister Scott, lock onto these coordinates. In seventy seconds, beam aboard everyone but Lieutenant Mahmood and myself.”

“ _Aye, sir.”_

“Spock out.”

McCoy opened his mouth to say something, but Ensign Rajax spoke first. “Permission to stay, Commander.”

“Denied,” Spock dismissed her, already walking towards Mahmood.

Unfortunately, the ensign followed him. “Please, sir. I can help find the captain.”

The air had grown heavy with smoke and dust. Spock could not waste any more time. Ensign Rajax was young and agile; she would not slow him down. He flipped the communicator open. “Spock to Enterprise.”

“ _Ten seconds to beam-up, sir_ ,” Scott’s voice answered.

“Ensign Rajax will remain with me.”

“ _Very well, sir. I’ll beam the rest aboard…”_

Rajax smiled. “Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you.”

Spock turned back towards Mahmood, just as Hujan’s lifeless body was beamed up with the rest of the landing party. The geologist was small, her black hair graying at the temples, and when she lifted her head, Spock noticed tears streaking her olive cheeks.

“Lieutenant, I am in need of your assistance,” Spock spoke slowly. He did not understand human grief, and he often offended his colleagues and crewmates by not respecting the Terran social norms of mourning. While he found this illogical, he could concede that losing one’s friend so unexpectedly might affect any being – especially one untrained in emotional control. He gave Mahmood the time to wipe her tears on her uniform sleeve.

“Yes, Mister Spock,” she stood up.

Rajax stood a few steps behind them, staring at the ground. Spock shifted on his feet. “The captain is missing,” he stated.

Although it was not a question, Mahmood nodded. “We were both in the forest, sir. Captain Kirk was helping me gather some samples... I couldn’t reach through the branches...” She paused, and Spock imagined Jim’s benevolent smile as he offered to help the geologist.

“Then… the earthquake…” she continued. “There was a fault – a crevice in the ground – and the two sides of the fault slid past each other just beneath the captain’s feet. I’d never seen anything like it: it was so sudden, and the crevice grew larger in mere seconds. Almost like it was being pulled apart by something.”

Rajax drew a sharp breath. Spock lifted an eyebrow.

“And Captain Kirk… I know this sounds impossible, but he was _swallowed_ by the earth,” Mahmood said, her eyes wide and wet, “That’s the only way I can describe it. He fell into the crevice before it sealed itself. I immediately ran to get help, but things were worse over here…”

Spock felt the tendrils of an emotion he could not name slither around his mental walls. He stared blankly at the dark horizon as he reinforced his shields. He was a Vulcan, he reminded himself, and a Starfleet officer.

“Where is the captain now?” he asked.

Mahmood’s eyes darted behind Spock, to where Rajax was standing. “Um, sir, the crevice sealed itself after he fell in,” she answered, uncertain.

“But you saw it before that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How deep was it?”

Mahmood shared another look with Rajax, this time more worried than surprised. “I’m not sure. Quite deep,” she bit the inside of her cheeks, and grim determination filled her eyes, “Mister Spock, if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Captain Kirk couldn’t have survived the fall.”

The vines twining around Spock’s mental walls squeezed, threatening to crack them open and slip through. He needed time to meditate, but that was impossible. Instead, he turned away from Lieutenant Mahmood and grabbed his tricorder. “He is not dead.”

Rajax started biting the tips of her long fingers. Mahmood shook her head. “With all due respect, Commander, the fall was fatal. And the ground _sealed itself_ over him.”

“I do not doubt what you say, Lieutenant, but the fact remains that Captain Kirk is still alive.”

Spock knew what both Mahmood and Rajax were thinking. He knew the question they wanted to ask him: _“How can you be so certain?”_

They would never ask. And that was for the best – because he would never answer.

“Lieutenant Mahmood, you will show me exactly where the captain disappeared,” Spock ordered.

“Aye, sir.”

As they walked into the forest once more, Spock noticed a dozen bright red geranium flowers – identical to those on Earth. This planet was absurd, but there was a logical pattern to all the illogical elements. He just had to find out what it was.

* * *

Jim Kirk opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. Bright light, blinding him. Pain, shooting through the back of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut again and turned his face to the side. From beneath his closed eyelids he felt the light fade.

The last thing he remembered was the ground splitting beneath his feet. There had been an earthquake. Lieutenant Mahmood screaming, and then… then the fall. He had no idea where he was.

The air was damp and warm. Jim winced; his arms stung and his left leg was sore from the knee down. His headache was growing more and more intense, white hot pain rushing all the way down to his jaw. He rolled onto his side and tried to push himself off the ground, but his body, too weak to respond, fell back to the cold stone.

Too exhausted to even look around, Jim listened instead. Water was dripping somewhere in the distance. For a few minutes, it was the only thing he heard. Then there was something else, like the sound of footsteps circling him.

Jim immediately opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, but he could’ve sworn a shadow had climbed the rocky wall to his right. He blinked several times, squinting as his vision cleared.

He was in a tunnel of some sort, formed by dark gray stone and streaked with fissures. Total darkness stretched out on either side of him, pierced by his hoverlight. The device was floating a few centimeters above the ground, right next to Jim’s face. It was scratched, but otherwise undamaged. 

“Is anyone there?” Jim called out, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

Silence. Jim reached for the hoverlight, directing it one way, then the other. There was nothing, only the same lifeless rock, spreading out infinitely.

Jim patted his sides, looking for his phaser and communicator, but it seemed he’d lost both. He looked down at his arms and chest where his uniform, torn in places, revealed areas of bruised skin. He slowly bent his left knee, testing the pain. Once he felt confident enough to stand up, he took a deep breath and pulled himself up, leaning against the tunnel wall.

He needed to find a way out of here. The sound of dripping water, coming from his right, was his only clue. Clutching his hoverlight, Jim set off in that direction.

* * *

Rajax ran one bony orange finger down a slit in the ground. “Could’ve been here,” she shrugged.

Mahmood looked away from her tricorder. “It’s impossible to tell,” she shook her head.

Fallen tree trunks and branches were scattered around the forest. Spock observed the debris, searching for any indication that the captain had been here, but Mahmood was correct: there was nothing. Spock walked over split tree roots. Twigs clung to his uniform and snapped beneath his boots. It seemed that this part of the forest was the most affected by the earthquake.

“Scan for any traces of Starfleet equipment: the captain was carrying a phaser, a communicator and a hoverlight,” Spock said.

Rajax nodded, but Mahmood looked up at him hesitantly. “Permission to speak candidly, sir?”

Spock already knew what this was about, but he nodded anyway. He was aware that by keeping valuable information from his officers, he risked their dissatisfaction – and although he would not accuse anyone of insubordination, he had to consider it a possibility. He understood their confusion, but this was a secret he could not share.

Lieutenant Mahmood scratched the back of her neck. “In thirty minutes we’ll be stranded here. We’ve found nothing so far, not even a clue –”

“If you wish to beam aboard, Lieutenant, I shall contact Mister Scott immediately,” Spock offered.

“Well, I –” Mahmood stammered, her cheeks growing red with embarrassment, “I just think that we might not find anything at all. And if we don’t leave soon we’ll be completely vulnerable to this planet’s unpredictable seismic activity for over fourteen hours…”

Spock realized he hadn’t given his officers a reason to believe in this mission, especially considering the risks involved. They were about to follow him blindly as he ventured into danger with no solid evidence that the captain was still alive. It was not logical to expect so much of them. And yet he had no other choice.

“You are under no obligation to stay,” Spock said, flipping his communicator open.

Mahmood bit the inside of her cheek, knitting her brows together. She looked at Rajax, who was pretending not to listen as she scanned the area. “I’ll stay,” Mahmood declared.

“Very well,” Spock put his communicator back on his belt. He had to think fast. If Mahmood was correct, then there was only one place the captain could be: underground. “Ensign, readings.”

Ensign Rajax looked up from her tricorder. “No sign of Starfleet equipment except for ours, Commander.”

“Scan for air pockets under the surface.”

The Edosian’s puzzlement was plain on her face, but she did not question her orders. “Aye, sir.”

Spock was not surprised when the readings came in affirmative.

* * *

The sound of dripping water had become a mantra, a dizzying hymn in the silence of the tunnels. Jim held his hoverlight close to his chest, and he felt the heat emanating from it seep into his palm. Endless gray, the same patterns spread out in the stone on either side of him, over and over. It reminded him of Janus VI – except there he’d walked in the darkness next to Spock, counting his steady steps and intakes of breath to keep from thinking. Here all he had were his thoughts; and the drip, drip, dripping.

He remembered their shoulders brushing, down in the mines, and Spock had been reaching out to test the rock before stepping into a smaller tunnel. He remembered that too – Spock’s long fingers against the stone, and how they had opened up to grip the jagged edge, pushing up, pushing in… then his low hum of approval. Jim had wanted to lean in closer. No one would have seen them, in the dark.

Drip, drip, drip. Over and over. Jim limped a few more steps forward then stopped to breathe. His eyes fell on his own hand, his fingers splayed on the rock as Spock’s had been, but with none of his grace. Jim couldn’t move in the world the way Spock did. He didn’t speak that secret language.

He knew where this was going, and he had nothing to distract himself from it. It was the usual ache, and yet… Jim looked up at where the sky should have been. He tried to imagine it now; maybe the planet had rotated, maybe there was a great white gash slicing the blackness open, stars pouring in, color bleeding out: the nebula in all its glory. If he could keep his mind away from the ache…

Something moved somewhere to his left. Jim started, clutching his hoverlight as he turned. The tunnels were still empty, but he was sure now that he wasn’t alone. For a minute he considered speaking up, but his throat tightened around the words. Whatever it was out there, pretending he hadn’t seen it was for the best. It was a gut feeling, nothing more – and he’d learned to trust his gut.

He pushed himself off the rock and continued limping down the tunnel. The dripping sounds no longer haunted him; they seemed less ominous compared to the prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He forced himself not to look into the darkness behind him.

Jim had no idea how he’d arrived here or where he was going, but one thing was sure: he was being followed.

He had no choice but to continue, ignoring the shadows crawling up the rocky walls around him. Whoever was observing him didn’t seem hostile – for now – and in any case, Jim was unarmed, too weak for a physical confrontation. He needed to find a way out, fast. With no water, no food, and injured as he was, he wouldn’t last very long down here.

Drip, drip, drip – _tap, tap, tap_ ; his own footsteps, irregular but still there. He took a deep breath, the air burning his throat on the way in. Where did it come from, this far underground? So much air, but no currents. Water in the distance. These tunnels led somewhere, that much was certain. Clinging to that thought to keep from giving in to the ache, Jim walked faster. When had it become so difficult to be alone with his own thoughts?

Tripping and stumbling forward, Jim tried to steady himself but his injured leg gave in, and he sank to the floor with a grunt. He put his hoverlight down and sat there for a moment with his eyes closed, gathering what little strength he had left. There was comfort in the blackness behind his eyelids, so he sat a while longer. Time meant nothing down here.

There was whispering in the distance, and a low humming sound, like the Enterprise’s engines lulling him back to sleep. Pinpricks of light, dotting his skin and the world around him – darkness beyond, darkness within. He knew he was not alone.

Morpheus called once again. Jim fought the urge to fall asleep. He got up instead, and his body was lighter than air. With a single push he was on his feet, looking around frantically. The whispering was closer now, and the light came in bursts from above. Jim rubbed his face to dissipate the sleep still clinging to his eyelashes. The blurriness of his vision was an obstacle in these uncertain surroundings. He was used to waking up in a hurry, chimes and red alerts demanding his immediate attention – grogginess was something he hadn’t experienced since childhood.

And yet here he was, struggling to stir his body and mind, as if something were pulling him down towards unsolicited slumber…

“Who are you?” he spoke into the emptiness of the tunnels. His voice ricocheted against the walls, echoes, echoes, echoes…

The whispering answered him, he was sure of it. He couldn’t make out the words, but that’s what they were, _words_. And suddenly he became aware of a presence – the same shadow that had followed him this far, the same specter climbing the walls.

“I know you’re here,” Jim said. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, a great and primal fear taking hold of him as he took a step forward. The sleepiness was gone now, and all that remained was the whispering, the light and the fear.

Something in Jim’s mind shifted then; something that had been motionless for a while, now falling into the present like drizzle over empty fields. Familiar, so familiar, and yet utterly alien. Soothing, soft, enthralling. It was a presence as well – not on the outside, but within. He almost recognized it, the elusiveness of its touch, its gentle song, dark eyes, _let me_ , _safety_ , _always_ , _here_ , _help_ …

A movement to his right distracted him from his own thoughts. Jim turned so fast his head swam with the motion. He saw it then. There, standing in the middle of the tunnel. A figure, slender limbs poking out of its lean body, teal colored hair cascading down its bony shoulders. Its skin, bare from head to toe, was the same ashy gray as the stone walls around it. Its eyes were entirely black.

Silence. No more whispering. Not a sound. Jim’s hand opened and closed around thin air. No phaser, no communicator – he’d even lost his hoverlight, although there was sufficient lighting now, emanating from above. It didn’t make any sense: the air running through the tunnels, the sudden bursts of light… 

Jim didn’t dare take his eyes off the creature before him. It stood eerily still, unmoving but for the quiet rise and fall of its chest.

“I’m Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.” First contact, as always, sent chills down his spine. He opened his palms and turned them upwards in the universal gesture of peace. “We were unaware of the existence of sentient life on this planet. I apologize for the intrusion.”

The creature blinked once, but there was no other reaction. Jim took a deep breath. “I was separated from my crew by an earthquake,” he explained, “I’m lost.”

Bending its elbows and knees, the creature twitched, its entire body retreating into a crouching position. Long lashes fluttered over its black eyes. “Lost?” its voice was high-pitched and sharp, like that of a child.

“Yes,” Jim nodded, slowly bringing his hands to his chest. “I’m lost, and I’m going to need your help to find my way back.”

There was a sudden breeze passing through the tunnel, and the dripping sounds from before returned, loud and clear, like a beacon.

“Way back will be found, James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise,” the being spoke, standing up straight and tilting its chin upwards. It was shorter than the average human, only its slenderness made it appear taller.

Jim frowned. “The water? That was you? Why are you following me?”

The creature ignored his questions, instead pressing one of its four fingers to the rocky wall. A tremor went through it, leaving a mark in the stone. The being smiled, revealing a row of sharp, pearly white teeth, then ran off into the darkness.

“Wait!” Jim cried, starting to run after it before stopping dead in his tracks, deterred by the complete darkness ahead. He wouldn’t make it without his hoverlight.

He turned to the mark embedded in the wall: the delicate shape of a humanoid hand – four long fingers and a thumb – with lines running through the palm. It looked as if it were opening up… opening up to grip the jagged edge of the rock, pushing in, pushing in…

Jim stumbled backwards, the image flashing in his mind, perfectly preserved in his memory. The imprint of Spock’s hand, the way it had been on Janus VI. One more impossible thing on this impossible planet.

With a sharp intake of breath, Jim woke up. He was still sitting on the cold hard ground, pebbles digging into his legs. His hoverlight was there, right next to him. No trace of the creature, the light, the mark in the stone… but the dripping sounds beaconed still.

Jim forced his body to comply as he got up and looked ahead. It didn’t matter whether he had dreamed the encounter or not. All he had now was the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Plant and flower symbolism:**  
>  · Geranium: symbolizes determination.


	4. Protea

Hydrogen, helium and stardust. Taj 24 was a thread of color crossing the sky. Spock looked up at its spiraling arms, clouds of gas curling in and out, rolling onto each other like waves. Had the Captain been here, he would have recited a few wistful lines from an old Earth poem. A light breeze shook the leaves of a fallen tree. The Captain always had a poem on the tip of his tongue.

Standing behind Spock, Rajax and Mahmood were looking up at the nebula as well. They stood close together, their arms brushing, the human’s hair fluttering behind her. “It’s beautiful…” she whispered.

“Breathtaking,” Rajax agreed, her yellow eyes wide with wonder.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back, looking away. They had discovered a series of underground tunnels only a few meters beneath the surface, creating air pockets that were easily detectable by tricorder. The tunnels went on indefinitely, growing deeper as they extended to the north. Phaser fire would have been enough to blast an opening in the ground and allow them to enter the tunnels from there. However, they were not carrying phasers.

“Ensign, I shall require your tricorder,” Spock said, and Rajax tore her eyes away from the nebula to hand him the device. She blinked, confused for a moment, and watched as Spock tampered with the settings. He placed it on the ground approximately 3.5 meters away and flicked a switch, setting it to overdrive. “Explosion in six, five, four –”

Falling back, the three of them hid behind a boulder as Spock continued the countdown. “– three, two, one…”

The tricorder’s strident whine came to a stop. It exploded with a loud thud, pieces of it flying here and there. The ground shook beneath their boots, and cracks slithered through the boulder. Spock peered around it. The dust settled, revealing a hole, big enough to fit an adult humanoid, opening onto the tunnels. It was deep enough that they would have to carefully climb down – none of them could make the jump.

As he made his way to the fuming edge, Spock felt a sudden jolt of telepathic activity in his mind. Encased and safely kept within the confines of his mental walls, the ribbon twisted and turned on itself, calling to him, so desperately calling. _Ignore it, let me, stop, always, here, help_ … he closed his eyes against the upsurge of feelings heaving themselves at him with the force of an ion storm, trying to weave themselves into his consciousness. He fought them, fought himself, scrabbling for control.

Control. _Control_. He had it, there, finally held on to it as hard as he could and slammed the doors shut. His entire body tensed with the effort of keeping them closed, but he stood his ground.

With one last look up at Taj 24, now splitting the sky in half, Spock climbed down into the unknown.

* * *

In the haze of pain and confusion Jim had imagined the water was all he had. But he’d forgotten that with water came so much more.

There was a break in the tunnels. Standing in the entrance, Jim took it all in. A cave the length of the Enterprise’s hangar deck, but at least three times the height of it, with pillars of stone on each side rising up and disappearing into the shadows. Up ahead there was the water, finally: a bubbling brook, fed by a seep, crossed the cave like a silver thread. Light played upon its surface, and dark foliage grew alongside it. Plants with large glossy leaves hung low, grazing the water. _Life_.

Jim directed his hoverlight upwards then down; right and left and then right again, sweeping the cave in search of a connection to the surface. There had to be. Where did all the air come from? How different could the rules of this world be?

He heard his own footsteps echo around him as he reached the center of the grotto. If he’d felt a presence in the tunnels before, he now knew he was alone. Crouching to dip his fingers into the stream, Jim closed his eyes. No, not alone. There was another presence, entirely different; something he couldn’t quite name.

The water slid between his fingers and around his wrist, enclosing his hand in its cool grip. He leaned closer, bringing the water up in his cupped palms, and drank. The vegetation, ruffled by his boots, swayed from side to side. Breathe in, breathe out. He would find a way out. He was not alone.

Images of Janus VI flitted through his mind once again; the memory of those lonely passageways collapsing on him, sealing him in, and Spock’s voice through the rubble, _Captain, Jim, Jim_ … The fear dissipating, melting into the usual ache at the pit of his stomach; he’d always known he’d die alone. Spock at his side, Spock in his mind, _not alone, never alone_ , _Captain_ , _Jim_ , and no, he couldn’t be afraid when Spock was calling his name.

The dripping sounded more like a torrent here. The brook came out of the very rock – out of nowhere, so to speak – and nothing was any clearer than before. But his watery beacon had been true, and for that Jim was grateful.

Today he’d been afraid, he admitted to himself. He’d been terrified back there in the tunnels, and of course he still was, but…

Perhaps he was losing his mind. Opening his eyes, Jim sat down and removed his boots and socks. The fabric clung in places, dried blood peeling off his skin. He rolled his trousers up to the knee and put his feet in the water, sighing at the relief it brought. He didn’t dare look at his other injuries. He ignored the physical ache the way he’d ignored the rest. Pain was a persistent thing, but Jim Kirk would not yield. He never had before.

Leaning back on his elbows, he looked around him. His hoverlight, discarded next to his boots, lit up a tiny tree a few feet ahead, its ebony bark speckled with translucent turquoise sap. Following the curve of its branches, Jim thought he saw something round and red peeking through the leaves.

More hungry than tired, he got up and hurriedly made his way to the tree. It was small, its branches easily accessible. He delved between them and came out holding a red berry-like fruit the size of his fist.

He smelled it; something between a raspberry and a pear. It was strongly discouraged to ingest unknown alien fruits – Bones certainly would have reminded him of that – but weakened as he was, Jim wouldn’t last long without food.

He took a cautious bite. Smooth and sweet like a pear. He’d been fond of them as a child – apples and pears, and the song of summer sunsets, the rhythm of the evening, the wind in his hair. The smell of rain, his mother biting into an apple, Sam’s easily provoked laughter. _Home_ , he thought, and what a long way he was from Earth’s gentle melody.

But no, no; home was a vessel and the people at his side. Home was the journey, home was the Enterprise: her bulkheads holding him close, grounding him, and out of her windows he saw the universe the way he’d always dreamed it would be. Nostalgia was something he rarely suffered from, and this longing for the motherworld felt foreign, out of place. He took another bite, and the fruit’s juice slid down his chin.

His father would wipe it away, run his large hand through Jim’s hair; _my boy, my wonderful boy_ . A sandcastle on the beach, destroyed by the waves, _we’ll make another one_. Clouds reflected on the surface, ripples and sunlight running through the sea, ceaseless tremors, always in motion. Jim held onto a branch, but it snapped in his hand, and he stumbled. It was all he ever did, stumble – his life was a tightrope and the fall was seemingly endless, and he swayed and swayed.

There was a hand on his shoulder. “Jim…”

He turned around, but no one was there. He knew the voice, knew its owner better than anyone. _Spock_. The one constant in his life since he’d started this mission, the one faithful constellation in his sky. He felt the furthest away from home when they were apart.

Jim’s hands were sticky where the fruit’s juice had dried on them. He leaned over the stream once again to wash them. His reflection looked up at him, a young man in a golden uniform, half of his face concealed by the shadows. The other half held his gaze; he didn’t quite recognize himself like this. The shadows moved, swelling and swaying back and forth until another face appeared next to his – half a face, with sad eyes and delicately pointed ears.

They made a pretty picture; one, although not the same, only complete when together. Jim couldn’t stop staring. He’d learned in his travels that nothing was as enticing as a mirage. Maybe he was a modern Tantalus. Maybe this – the image in the water – was his eternal punishment. _If only I could tell you without losing you_.

A blissful punishment, if punishment there was, to spin forever in Spock’s orbit, tirelessly reaching for him, even without ever breaking through the atmosphere.

“James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.”

He looked up, dazed. The creature was on the other side of the stream, bent over the water like he was, its beady eyes boring into him.

Weary of the silence, Jim stood up. “Who are you?” he demanded. The being flinched and started to crawl backwards into the shadows. Jim held his hands up. “No, don’t go. I’m tired; I just need to get back to my ship. I mean you no harm.”

A slight intake of breath. “Leave,” it said, “Harm is done. Do no more.”

“I want to leave, but I need your help to get out of here.”

“Help is given,” the creature hissed, bowing so low its belly grazed the ground, its legs bent like it was about to pounce, “Leave. Stay no more.”

Jim frowned. There was an obvious misunderstanding, but he wasn’t sure where they’d miscommunicated. He felt it in his stomach, in his chest: his insatiable curiosity, drawing patience out of him despite the exhaustion and the hunger. He crouched down to be at eye-level with the alien.

“What’s your name?” he gently asked.

Silence. A breeze made the plant life twirl, sending shivers through the surface of the stream. The creature hesitated, its mouth falling open and closing again. “Taku,” it finally said.

“I need you to guide me out of the tunnels, Taku.”

It blinked, impossibly long eyelashes fluttering over its large eyes. Silence, once more. From this angle the sap on Jim’s tree looked almost bioluminescent, light pulsating through it like a heartbeat. Patience. There had to be a way to make it understand.

“Do you live here?”

Taku relaxed slightly, its willowy body shifting into a less rigid posture. “Here, now,” it said.

Jim bit his lower lip pensively. “Alright. Are you alone?”

“You are here.”

“Yes, but is there anyone else?”

The ground seemed to shudder beneath their feet, and Taku squinted. “Bipeds are sentient. On surface are searching. For you, James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.”

“My crew,” Jim said, mostly to himself. He couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “How many bipeds?”

“Two. Tripedalism is displayed by third.”

Only three out of their eight-person landing party… Jim hoped the rest were safely aboard the _Enterprise_. “Do you know exactly where they are? How can I get to them?”

“Harm is caused. Bipeds are harming.” Taku shook its head.

“I assure you they would never harm anyone on purpose. There must be a misunderstanding. They would only attack in self-defense.”

“Explosion was made,” Taku crawled to the side, visibly agitated, “split open, the rock, the stone.”

“That was an earthquake; we had nothing to do with it. My people are peaceful.”

With a fierce growl, Taku heaved itself at Jim, jumping across the stream in a single movement. Its fingers dug into his arms and he fell on his back with Taku hovering over him, teeth bared.

“Peaceful?” it snarled. “Only harm since arrival. Is thinking of harm always. No more.”

“We don’t want to hurt you, we just –”

“ _No more_.”

Jim woke up panting, lying on his back. The fruit rolled out of his hand and into the stream, leaving a crimson trail behind it. He looked around frantically, but he was alone in the cave. Wiping his hand on his shirt, he put his socks and boots back on. His mind whirled with questions to which he had no answer, and he felt a little sick to the stomach.

He got up. He made a mental list of every possibility he could think of: visions, hallucinations, dreams… or real first contact, perhaps a telepathic species? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

He decided to follow the stream. The laws of nature might be different here, but he knew no other way. As for Taku… real or not, Jim took its warning very seriously.

As he walked away, hoverlight held close to his body, he noticed long cone-shaped flowers lining the edges of the cave. Their base was surrounded by stiff leaves forming a cup around the center. He remembered running his fingertips through something very similar, a long time ago on a shattered Earth colony. Those flowers had been the only thing standing in the middle of the rubble and ruins. The last truly living things on Tarsus IV’s blood-soaked soil.

_art by the wonderful[nightly-trekking](https://nightly-trekking.tumblr.com/)_

* * *

They had been walking through the tunnels for approximately three hours. Perhaps more. Spock’s thoughts were scattered, his mind unfocused. Most of his energy was going into the reinforcement of his mental shields. There had been a steady increase in telepathic activity ever since they’d entered the tunnels. Spock knew they were getting closer.

Walking a few meters behind him, Rajax and Mahmood were whispering to each other.

“I’m starving,” Rajax said. She clearly underestimated the range of Vulcan hearing. “I’m almost out of rations.”

“You can have mine,” Mahmood replied moodily, “I’m too tired to eat.”

There was silence for a moment, and Spock assumed the complaining was over. But Rajax cleared her throat; “Why didn’t you beam back up to the ship when you had the chance? No one would have blamed you.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“This is my first away mission. Mister Spock chose me because he thought I had what it takes; I want to prove him right.”

“I’m sure he’s right about that,” there was a smile in Mahmood’s voice, then she sighed. “Unfortunately I can’t say the same about his plan.”

“Then why did you stay?”

Spock caught himself waiting for the geologist’s reply.

“Well,” she whispered, “here’s the thing about the Enterprise, Rajax. We’re explorers, right? We’re scientists and engineers and artists, but at our very core we’re explorers. The loneliest people you can find. And out here… we only have each other. That ship, that crew – we’re a family. A solar system of over four hundred stars.”

There was a breath, an exchange that Spock couldn’t see. Then Mahmood continued: “I guess what I’m trying to say is that we need each other, and we have to be there for each other all the time. When Fatima Hujan died earlier… she was my friend. We had lunch together every day in rec room four. She taught me how to knit; it calmed her whenever she was anxious. We all do these small things for each other and they mean so much. We _have_ to. This only works if we’re in it together.”

“But Mister Spock is Vulcan. He doesn’t need emotional support the way we do.”

“Maybe. I personally don’t buy that. But in any case, I don’t want to take the chance: when he needs my help I stay and help him, even if he doesn’t order me to. And even if I don’t agree.”

Spock lowered his hoverlight and looked into the impenetrable darkness ahead, as if it could swallow him, as if he could disappear in it.

“Besides,” Mahmood added, “Captain Kirk is somewhere down here. He deserves better than to be left behind. Alive or not.”

Another jolt. Spock stopped dead in his tracks and activated his tricorder.

“There is a cavern 4.2 kilometers ahead,” he announced as Rajax and Mahmood reached him. “I have reason to believe that is where we shall find the captain.” He ran a quick tricorder scan over their remaining equipment. “Our hoverlights’ power-banks are nearly empty. They will not take us there and back. Remain here and wait for me to return with the captain. Do not turn on your hoverlights unless necessary.”

“We can keep Lieutenant Mahmood’s tricorder open, just for the glow off its screen,” Rajax suggested.

“Beats sitting in total darkness for two hours,” Mahmood shrugged.

“Very well,” Spock nodded.

He left them to their whispering. He tried not to listen, but he caught Rajax’s words as he walked away: “You’re right. I don’t buy it either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Plant and flower symbolism:**  
>  · Protea: stands for change and transformation, as well as daring and resourcefulness. Might also symbolize courage.


	5. Myosotis

According to Kiri-kin-tha’s First Law of Metaphysics, “nothing unreal exists”. All that existed was, therefore, real. Applied to telepathic species such as Vulcans, this meant it was enough to experience something in one’s mental reach to prove its existence. If one is afraid, then there is fear. By recognizing a thought, one effectively brought it into the realm of truth.

It was a simple rule, Spock admitted to himself, and yet he failed to apply it to his current situation. Kiri-kin-tha had studied the emotional impact of exterior thoughts on telepathic beings – but what of the emotions from  _ within _ ? Vulcan scholars had always neglected that aspect. Emotions were, after all, meant to be suppressed, not examined.

Here in the entrails of this strange planet, he was face to face with the truth. He was here because of it, he could feel it with every step he took, every desperate plea his worn-out mind uttered,  _ please, please let me find you, let me take you back to safety _ . The strain on his control was too great to ignore. Denial was illogical. 

Somehow, a mental bond had developed between them. James Kirk had become more than just Spock’s captain.

The stories spoke of such connections; two minds so compatible they’d join without the owners’ knowledge. No bonding ceremonies on the sacred sands, no adjusting and reconsidering. No reason, no logic. Just the pure entwining of two katras.  _ T’hy’la _ .

Spock’s hoverlight flickered once. The power-banks were almost empty. He walked faster, breathing too loud in the underground silence.

He’d instantly known that Jim was still alive. Ever since they’d arrived on this planet, the pull had been relentless. It hadn’t stopped after the captain’s disappearance. As if calling from a great distance, one mind to another. The further Spock advanced, the more powerful this pull became. He could resist it no longer. He broke into a sprint, and he called too, silently,  _ Captain, Captain, Jim _ .

There he was, at the end of the tunnel. Spock’s lips parted slightly at the sight of him: those hazel eyes, that warm smile, like sunrise over the Vulcan desert,  _ perfect, perfect _ .

“You found me,” Jim said.

“Yes,” Spock answered, coming to a stop a few feet away – too far, always too far.

They stood there, breathing heavily. Spock had spent years building a mental fortress; now it seemed little more than a sandcastle on the beach.  _ I am the shore, you are the wave _ .

“Are you injured?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

They were alone, they were together. Spock took a step forward, swallowed hard. “We must get back to the surface.”

Jim nodded slowly. “Yes…”

The tension between them was a living thing. They were wasting time, as if unwilling to go just yet, reluctant to leave this elusive moment of stillness, when everything seemed possible.

And then there was a rumble from below and above and everywhere around them. They both staggered, and the ground split open. The walls were torn apart by thick vines that crawled into the tunnel like serpents. 

They exchanged a worried look. Pieces of rock crumbled and rolled into the cracks as the vines moved towards them. Instinct and logic said the same thing:  _ run _ .

Spock involuntarily reached back, placing his hand on Jim’s arm as they ran in the direction he came from; towards the surface, towards safety. The vines slithered across the walls and ground, unquestionably chasing them. New cracks formed beneath their boots, and new vines crept up, lunging at them, clutching the air like sinewy moss-covered fingers.

Leaping out of their way, Spock lost his fragile grip on Jim’s arm. He jumped to the side and ducked to avoid a vine flying towards his head. He looked back to see Jim topple and fall, a large green tendril wrapped around his ankle. It pulled him back with surprising force, dragging him across the rocky tunnel floor and towards the crevice from which it emerged. He struggled, kicking and jerking away, but more vines sprang up and snaked around his wrists and neck. Spock hurried back to him, willing his legs to carry him as fast as they could. The distance between them – only a few feet in reality – seemed impossibly long.

There was another low rumble, like a beast growling in the heart of the planet. Spock finally reached Jim and grabbed him by the arms, trying to pull him away. The vines only tightened around him, smaller tendrils shooting out to slide up his neck and jaw, forcing their way past his lips.

“Spock, you have to go,” he choked out.

_ No _ . Spock tore through the vines with his bare hands, digging his fingers into them and tugging as hard as he could. They broke, yielding to the sheer strength of his Vulcan body, ripping apart in his hands. But they grew back within seconds, thicker and tougher. Jim was bruising already, splashes of red blooming on delicate human skin.

“ _ Spock _ ,” he panted. “ _ Go _ . That’s an order.”

Authority rang in his voice – leadership was second nature to Jim; command ablaze in his eyes, in his veins. He hadn’t lost it, not even here, not even now. But Spock remembered himself standing before his captain and saying:  _ there are some things which transcend even the discipline of the service _ . He believed it still. He believed it now more than ever.

Their gazes met for a single, breathless second. The anger in Jim’s eyes abated at what they read in Spock’s. A certainty. A promise.  _ I will not leave you _ .

The tunnel shook violently, and Spock held on to Jim’s shirt as he lost his balance and fell to the side.  _ I will not let go _ . He felt something cold and slimy slip up his leg, then the vines curled around his knee. He kept his eyes on Jim, and saw the shift in the captain’s expression as he seemed to realize something.

“Meld with it,” he managed, nodding towards the vine now encircling his chest.

Spock did not question it. He pressed his fingers to the nearest tendrils and closed his eyes, hurling his consciousness at whatever was on the other side.

He plummeted and sank. There was a rush of cool air. He heard the world around him in distorted bursts of sound, as if underwater. He opened his eyes.

He was floating. No colors surrounding him, no shapes; just gray nothingness. To his right, a shadow moved. It slowly came into focus – a life form unknown to him, humanoid, with long teal hair and charcoal skin. It stared at him, unreadable.

_ I am Spock _ , he sent into the void.

The creature tilted its head to the side.  _ Taku _ , it sent back.

_ Release us. We will not harm you _ .

Taku’s long limbs pierced the empty space as it floated towards Spock. It stopped right in front of him, its black eyes wide and unblinking.  _ Warning was given. Too late _ .

_ The earthquakes were your doing? _

_ Yes. _

_ We did not understand. Release us and we will provide you with whatever you desire. _

The creature bared its teeth.  _ Nothing is desired. Nothing can be given back. What is gone is lost. Too late. _

_ If you spare us we might find a way to retrieve what was lost. We can help you. _

Taku lowered its head in thought. Spock noticed a patch of darker, shriveled skin on the side of its neck – like a third degree burn. When it looked back up at him, its face was inscrutable once more.

_ Starship Enterprise _ , it projected, along with an image: the ship, in all her silver glory, outlined against Taj 24.

Spock nodded cautiously.  _ Yes. Our ship. Give us the time to contact it and we will help you _ .

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Taku lifted its chin and held its closed fist in front of Spock’s chest. In a whirl of movement, the creature disappeared.

Spock emerged from the mind meld.

The first thing he heard was Jim coughing. Then a hand landed on his shoulder, turning him ever so gently. He squinted, dizzy and disoriented. The world felt so far away.

“Spock?” Jim’s voice called, grounding him, drawing him back into his own body. “Spock, can you hear me?”

“Jim,” he whispered.

“It worked.” Those eyes, that smile again, sunrise over the desert. “Let’s get out of here.”

The vines were scattered across the tunnel, lifeless. One hoverlight was still flickering, the other nowhere to be seen. Jim helped Spock to his feet, the warmth of his palm on Spock’s sleeve lingering even after he’d pulled away. The tunnels had collapsed and the way back to the surface was blocked. Spock thought of the officers he’d ordered to stay behind, waiting for him back in the darkness.

“Lieutenant Mahmood and Ensign Rajax are still underground.”

“There’s nothing we can do from here,” Jim shook his head. “We’ll have to come back for them. Let’s hope they find their way out before then.” He gestured towards a gap in the rock. “I think we’ve found ours.”

Spock tried to scan the opening, but his tricorder was useless – it had most likely been damaged in the struggle. He tossed it aside and grabbed the hoverlight instead, directing it towards the gap in the tunnel.

“Interesting,” he raised an eyebrow.

Blades of grass were sticking in from the outside. A way to the surface. Jim limped towards it, dragging his left leg behind him. Spock followed close behind. As they climbed out, he noticed the mental link was thrumming. Not calling anymore, just quietly whirring. He ignored it for the time being.

They came up in a valley of some sort, surrounded by small mountains. The soil was dark blue and dusty, different from what they’d seen of the planet so far. The plain was covered with silver grass, dancing in the breeze. Taj 24 hovered above, claiming the sky.

“ _ All the stars are a-bloom with flowers _ ,” Jim whispered into the night.

He stood there, looking up in absolute wonder, lost to the world. Spock wanted to ask what he meant, where the words came from. He looked away instead.

The valley was relatively small: they could cross it in twenty minutes. However, climbing the mountains would prove difficult – especially with the captain’s injured leg. The best course of action was to wait until they were back within transporter range. The Enterprise would find them.

The captain seemed to be having the same thought. He sat down with a groan. “Let’s hope Scotty hasn’t wandered too far.”

Spock slowly sat down beside him. Their uniforms were torn and stained with dirt. Their hoverlight flickered on and off. By the size and position of the nebula, Spock supposed they still had seven hours to wait. Six, if one believed in luck.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” the captain sighed.

“Regarding the meld?”

“Yes. I’m assuming you communicated with the creature, convinced it to let us go?”

“Affirmative.”

Bright eyes shifted back to the sky, filled with human curiosity, helpless against Taj 24’s siren song. “I met Taku in the tunnels. It didn’t seem hostile at first, but its attitude changed; we angered it in some way. I’m not sure how, but I think it was responsible for whatever the hell attacked us down there. I assumed you could reach it through a mind meld.”

“You were correct, Captain. Taku was also responsible for the earthquake which resulted in your disappearance. It wants us off the planet.”

“So do I, but we’re all going to have to wait.”

The silence was peaceful here. Spock wished it could last. He leaned forward, his elbow resting on his bent knee. “Taku has… lost something. It did not specify what, but I promised we would help recover it.”

The captain did not look away from the nebula. “When we get back to the ship; when my crew is safe.”

Spock nodded quietly. There was something the captain was not saying. He rarely kept anything from Spock. It would appear they each had their secrets.

Finally tearing his gaze away from the heavens, Jim looked at Spock. “How did you find me?” He asked softly, as if the question could break them both. And perhaps it would.

“Our tricorders detected air pockets under the surface. We simply followed the tunnels.”

It was not a lie. Only half the truth. Spock’s heart was pounding uncontrollably. They were alone again, and they would be alone for a long time. His shields held despite the ruthless thrashing of one thought, one word uttered again and again, pushing, desperate to be free of his mental walls. The captain leaned closer, concern written on his handsome face.

“Spock, are you alright?”

And then the same voice, speaking right into Spock’s mind:  _ let me help _ . Memories of days and weeks and months spent at his side, meeting him in the rec room, in the turbolift,  _ good morning Mister Spock _ , and sometimes their eyes would meet across the bridge and he would smile.

Memories: that incident in sickbay, or was it on the observation deck, or in his quarters? Their shoulders had touched, and the back of Jim’s hand had brushed Spock’s,  _ I don’t want the journey to end _ . So unashamedly sincere, so unbearably vulnerable. Spock hadn’t answered. A sigh, Jim shaking his head, a lock of hair curling where it fell on his forehead,  _ I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that _ . The room had felt so empty after he’d left.

And here they were now, under alien skies, the blue mountains watching them lean in closer, closer, never close enough. Still too far apart.

“Captain,” Spock breathed.

He could tell him now. He could kick the doors wide open, let his shields crumble down and welcome the waves crashing at his shore.  _ Nothing unreal exists _ . The bond was real; the bond existed. Looking into Jim’s eyes, Spock could not deny or doubt it. The stories were true. The entwining of two katras.

He remembered their first game of chess, then a hundred after that – Jim’s laugh, his determination, his ingenuity. His hands, resting on the table, and how Spock had longed to be touched by them. How he longed for it now, as the captain looked up at him expectantly.

All his life, he’d known he was fragmented, uneven, irreparably broken. Harmony had always eluded him. This was proof of it. Suddenly he saw himself through his father’s eyes. His shields were inadequate, his control unsatisfactory. Incompetent, illogical – how could he have let himself fall this way?

The shame came, as always. Spock recoiled, both mentally and physically. He turned away from Jim’s hopeful eyes, from the impossible dream they held. He did not know what to say or do. They sat in a different kind of silence; not peaceful, but heavy with all the things left unspoken.

Spock looked around, his hands clenched on his knees. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw Jim run his fingers through the grass, back and forth, up and down. “Forget-me-nots.”

“I beg your pardon?” Spock asked.

Jim pushed the grass aside with one hand, revealing blue flowers caught between the weeds. He picked one; it looked so small in his palm.

“They look exactly like forget-me-nots,” he said. He reached up, his hand stopping in the air between them. “May I?”

Spock nodded. Jim held the flower between his thumb and index finger and gently placed it behind Spock’s ear. He hummed in amusement, a short, sweet sound. The stem slid into Spock’s hair, and the petals curled over the pointed tip of his ear. A smile played upon Jim’s lips as he slowly let his hand fall back to his side. It had the power to undo Spock entirely, that smile.

_ In the vastness of all time and space, somehow I found you.  _ There was no shame great enough to make him turn away from this. His friendship with Jim; more than a telepathic bond, more than any Vulcan ritual could explain. Tenderness beyond anything Spock had ever experienced before.  _ T’hy’la _ .

He hesitated, the words faltering on his tongue. The moment endured, stretched out between them until it could no longer, and then Jim’s smile faded.

“We should look for food,” he said, looking up at the sky one last time, “and shelter.”

That was it. Spock nodded, dizzy with everything he’d been unable to say. He got up and followed his captain as they walked across the valley, painted blue by the steady glow of the nebula above.

* * *

Jim stopped to lean against a tree, the dark bark of its trunk digging into his shoulder. His injuries weren’t serious, but the pain in his left leg was becoming impossible to ignore. He winced, hiding his face in the shadows. He didn’t want Spock to see. 

They’d managed to collect a few berries, the same red fruit from the tunnels, but neither of them  were  feeling particularly hungry. The trees that lined the valley provided shelter enough, although for now the skies were clear and the air silent but for the buzzing of small insects. Truthfully, they just needed something to do. Six hours, Spock had said. Perhaps less. Jim couldn’t trust himself that long.  There were words aching to spill out of him all the time.

He looked down at his leg, the torn edges of his uniform. Spock was close behind, inspecting the trees and bushes around them, eyes gleaming with scientific curiosity. Tall and lean against the dark horizon. Jim closed his eyes, exhausted at the thought of hiding his pain, physical and otherwise, for six more hours. Something inside of him was breaking, the sound of it like the clink of dilithium against glass, deafening in the silence of this strange new world. And the same presence he’d felt before, all around him now,  _ Captain _ ,  _ Jim _ .

There was a sudden shift in the air, and a benevolent wind carried the splashing of water to Jim’s ears. He opened his eyes, looking around for the source. Up ahead, the unmistakable glint of water, insects rippling on its surface. A creek, sheltered by the trees.

Jim tried not to limp as he walked towards it. Every step he took sent jolts of pain up his leg, which was raw and swollen from the knee down. Twice his ankle wobbled under his weight. He felt Spock’s eyes on his back and heard those steady footsteps right behind him.

“We should stay close to the water,” Jim said, pointing ahead – mostly to distract them both from the trembling in his hands, the heaving of his chest.

He did not look back to see Spock’s reaction, only heard him say, “Aye, sir.”

As they reached the rocky edge of the creek, Jim’s foot slipped on the damp moss. He tried to steady himself but lost his balance, his aching leg giving in. Immediately there were two strong arms around him, holding him up, and his back was pressed into Spock’s chest. Long fingers brushed against the back of his hand.

“Captain, I suggest you let me look at the injury.”

Jim hesitated, held back by his own stubbornness.  _ I’m fine, don’t worry _ , he wanted to say. But when he looked up Spock’s eyes were stern and insistent, and he felt all the fight in him melt away, chased out of his tired body by Spock’s proximity. How foolish to have imagined that he wouldn’t notice. “Alright.”

Slowly, Spock lowered him onto the grass. Jim leaned back on his elbows with a groan. “It’s my left ankle,” he said uselessly, watching as Spock knelt in front of him, gently pulling the injured leg into his lap.

First his boot came off, then his sock. Spock’s hands were careful, delicately wrapped around Jim’s calf to hold him in place as he exposed the bruised skin of his ankle. It was red, with purple blotches blooming in the middle and then scattering along the sides. Mirroring Taj 24. Green-tinged knuckles grazed Jim’s foot, and he was painfully aware of Spock’s fingers on him, cooler than a human’s touch – like something from a dream.

“Does this hurt?” Spock asked, his thumbs rubbing circles into the bruise.

Jim flinched. “Yes.”

Spock’s hands retreated, almost apologetically. “It could be a minor fracture. The pain has been gradually increasing over the past few hours.”

Not a question, Jim noticed. As if he knew, for certain. Their eyes met, and there was something there, just beneath the surface – a revelation, an admission perhaps.  _ How did you know? _ And a thousand more questions, stuck in Jim’s throat. It scared him, this fragile moment.  _ How do you always know _ … _? _

Brown eyes fell to Jim’s chest, his arms, the bloodstains on his uniform. Spock was about to say something, but Jim was faster.

“What do you think Doctor McCoy would have to say about your diagnosis?” he smiled, remembering the playfulness they often allowed themselves, on the bridge and in the turbolift and everywhere they went.

The shadow of a smile, yes, right there at the corner of Spock’s mouth. His secret smile. “Undoubtedly he would say I am a science officer, not a doctor.”

Human laughter, and a Vulcan eyebrow raised in amusement. Jim’s heel rested against Spock’s thigh, and Spock’s hand rested against Jim’s ankle. It could be like this, always. This easy companionship, just the two of them, one although not the same; like Jim’s vision inside the tunnels. Half of his soul, hidden where it would be safest.

He could tell him now. The truth, spilling out of his lips,  _ Spock, Spock, there’s something I need to tell you _ . He did not know where to start. He said nothing.

Spock looked down at where their skin touched. “Perhaps you should get some rest.”  _ Captain _ . Jim heard it.  _ Even when he doesn’t say it, he does _ .

Lifting the injured leg with infinite care, Spock placed it on the grass. He lingered, only a moment too long, his fingertips sliding along the edge of the bruise. Then he stood up, breathless, and walked towards the water. Jim watched him for a long time, slender silhouette outlined against the trees, until his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep.

The dream came immediately, as if it had been waiting for him. He floated down from a rose-colored sky into the welcoming embrace of a large green leaf, curling around the edges to receive him. It was twice his size and soft as a cloud. He slipped across its smooth surface, running his palms over it, marveling at the tingling sensation it left behind. It carried him down, a sweet-scented wind tickling his cheeks, and he chuckled in delight. The leaf rocked back and forth then came to a stop. Jim jumped off, spreading his arms to feel the air slide between his fingers.

He landed quietly, the ground pliant beneath his feet. He looked around him. Everywhere there was color; the world was made of plant life, budding, growing, blooming. Moonflowers and sunflowers and lilacs, and a thousand others that Jim had never seen before. They reached for him as he passed them by, touching his face and neck with their petals, leaving paint-splattered marks on his skin, silver and yellow and blue and pink.

He pushed past them, laughing, and jumped over thick orange vines to reach a pool of clear water. Submerged up to his knees, he splashed around, creating strange patterns that transformed into waves, swaying, swaying.

“James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise,” Taku called, crouching high up on a tree branch.

Jim looked up, using his hand to shield his eyes from the light – so much light, coming from above. With its long limbs folded beneath it, Taku looked like some kind of bird, perched on the treetop. The laughter died on Jim’s lips.

“Taku,” he frowned, his mind swimming with sudden questions. Through his confusion, he managed to ask: “What are you doing here?”

A flash of sharp teeth; Taku smiled. “Lost.”

“You’re lost?”

The creature nodded frantically, grinning from ear to ear. Jim crawled out of the water and back into the jungle of flowers. Bushes leaned in to dry him off as he stared up at Taku, puzzled. “I think I’m lost, too. I have no idea where I am,” he said.

Taku threw its head back and laughed; a high-pitched, ringing sound, like a carillon. “James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, lost is! Has been since time before!”

“What does that mean?”

“Two kinds of lost, there are.”

Jim shook his head, batting away the leaves that clung to his arms. “I’m not sure, but I think you’re calling me stupid.”

Taku laughed again, swinging from the branch before letting itself fall to the ground beside Jim. “No,” it said, pointing a bony finger at his chest, “lost here.”

Another large leaf floated down from the sky. It twisted and turned, bending itself into new shapes. Feet, legs, elbows, shoulders, a neck, a mouth, two pointed ears…

“Here! Now!” Taku cried, jumping up and down, its long teal hair flying around its head.

The leaf, now shaped like a man, fell slowly and hovered over the water. Jim squinted at it. He knew the curve of that neck, the outline of those shoulders, the arc of that wrist… he’d know them anywhere.

The leaf-person stirred, fingers twitching. His skin was green and delicate, covered with pinkish veins. He stood up, legs slipping into the water noiselessly. Taku was laughing, swinging from tree branches in glee. “Understood now! Another essence, another being! Two in one!”

“What does that mean, Taku?” Jim asked, not daring to look away from the leaf-person, who was now slowly making his way towards them.

“Understood, all is. Lost in shared essence, was. Taku leave.”

“No, wait, don’t leave.”

Taku dropped from a nearby tree, smiling. It held its closed fist in front of Jim’s chest and said, “Way will be found, James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.” In a whirl of movement, it disappeared.

Jim’s eyes instantly flew back to the leaf-person, knowing very well who he was supposed to be. There could be no mistake. As he got closer still, flowers bloomed across his shoulders and chest, and more grew in his hair – forget-me-nots, blue with a yellow heart.

_ Lost. Two in one _ . Jim watched as the leaf-person extended two fingers towards him. Faceless, he seemed to wait for Jim’s response. And there was only one thing Jim wanted to do – more than anything, more than he cared to admit. It was like a weight on his chest, all around him, pushing him forward,  _ do it _ ,  _ do it _ . He reached out, pressing his index and middle fingers to the leaf-person’s waiting hand.

Flowers, everywhere. On their skin and in their hair and curling around their ankles. The leaf-person tilted his head to the side.

The dream ended abruptly, and Jim woke up to the planet’s eternal night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Plant and flower symbolism:**  
>  · Myosotis (forget-me-not): symbolizes faithful love and memories.
> 
>  _“All the stars are a-bloom with flowers...”_ — Jim quotes **The Little Prince** by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.


	6. Rose

Three point two hours left. Taj 24 was hanging low over the horizon. The probability that Lieutenant Mahmood and Ensign Rajax had made it out of the tunnels was negligible. Spock’s thoughts returned to them every five point seven minutes. Leaving them there had been a mistake. But he’d been preoccupied at the time. His logic had been… uncertain.

There was movement ahead. Spock looked up. From where he was sitting, concealed in the bushes, he could see the captain getting to his feet, body heavy with the remnants of sleep, eyes on the creek. The wind whispered in the trees.

Before Spock could show himself, the captain reached for the back of his shirt and tugged. The fabric slipped over his skin, command gold giving way to the rosy paleness of his back. Eyes closed, face skywards, he took a deep breath. The rise and fall of his naked chest was slow and steady. More bruises were scattered along his shoulders and arms; human blood bright red, just beneath the surface. Spock wished he could press his lips to each and every one of them, and then watch them disappear under his touch.

The captain stretched, pulling his arms over his head. His shirt fell from his hands, fluttering to the ground. Muscles rippling, like water in the creek. The back of his head, golden too, and the roundness of his ears. Disarming in their softness.

Then his hands fell to his trousers, and Spock turned away. Cheeks burning, he looked at the ground. There was the sound of bare feet slapping against the rocks, the rustling of fabric, and then a splash. Spock dared not move. He dug his fingers into the grass beneath him. He was powerless, utterly powerless against the thoughts that flooded his mind. No shields, no walls strong enough to keep such sweetness out. Cracked open, they crumbled easily, falling stone by stone at James Kirk’s feet.

It was over. Spock knew this. It would take courage to cross the last line, to lift the last stone, but he would do it. It would break him, he knew this too. So be it. For Jim, he would break a thousand times over.

The minutes were long after that. Finally the sound of footsteps again, and then Jim’s voice, calling, “Spock?”

“Captain.”  _ I am here _ .  _ Jim, my t’hy’la _ .

“There you are.” He was still wet, his clothes clinging to him, his hair dripping down the side of his neck. He smiled apologetically. “I woke up feeling a little dazed. I guess I just needed to clear my head.”

Spock nodded, stepping out of the bushes.  _ Now _ . He needed to tell him, now.

“Jim,” he said, as if that one word, better than any other, could steady him, “there is something you must know.”

And those gentle eyes, how they held his across the darkness. How he was devoted, eternally, to the gleam in those hazel eyes.

“What is it, Spock?”

His name on those lips; safety, shelter from the storm in his mind. One last intake of breath.  _ Now _ .

“Do you remember the  _ kal-if-fee _ ?”

A cautious nod from Jim – they never spoke of this, of rolling in the sands of Vulcan, bodies pressed together, and how they had burned under T’Khut’s watchful gaze.

“Do you remember what I told you, when we returned to the Enterprise?”

Another nod: they both remembered.  _ The mating bond. Severed. I am free, as is she _ . The quiet relief in Jim’s eyes, the blush on his cheeks.

“There is another bond.”

At this, Jim took a step back. Fear clutched at Spock’s heart, sudden and terrible – Jim would hate him, he would be repulsed.  _ Too late _ .

“Another bond?”

“Yes.”

Silence, terrifying silence. Jim’s hands trembled slightly, fists clenching. Seconds passed; seconds that lasted forever. He would hate this, and everything it represented. He would feel trapped, disgusted by this bond, this accident, a testament to Spock’s inadequacy.

“How?” Jim whispered.

How, indeed? Too many words, and then not enough, and Spock was left speechless. He looked down at his hands, remembered how they had held Jim’s body – in passion or in violence, or perhaps both, he did not know. 

“By accident,” he answered. But he knew the truth; he knew what he should have said. It happened because of all the times their shoulders had touched, all the times their hands had brushed. Because of chess and coffee and smiles on the bridge, and  _ it’s alright _ and  _ let me help _ and  _ he’s my friend _ .

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jim’s voice was unsure, almost frightened – so different, so unlike him.

And there was only one answer to that. “I am a Vulcan.”

Jim’s caution seemed to melt away, his face opening up like the petals of a flower, and there was something desperate underneath. The inner corners of his eyebrows curved upwards, such a familiar expression, and his lips parted, a word was forming, the answer to Spock’s foolish confession.

“Spock, I –”

A tremor went through the ground. Sound, filling the silence all at once. An explosion. Jim’s eyes widened. “What was that?”

They both turned to see a hole in the ground, only a few meters ahead. Dust was settling around it, clouds of dirt and grass and rock. A small explosion, no doubt coming from underground…  _ Rajax and Mahmood _ .

Spock ran towards it, stomach tight with nervousness. His mental shields were still down, and it took him more than five second to pull them back up. They quivered, as if they would fall again, but he held them there. The captain was close behind, following Spock as he crouched and peered into the hole.

“Commander!” Rajax’s voice reached them, young and hopeful and breathless with relief.

“Ensign,” Spock called back, “Are you and Lieutenant Mahmood alright?”

“Yes,” Rajax answered, “But we’re going to need help getting out of here.”

A long orange arm shot out of the darkness below, and Spock grabbed it, pulling the Edosian up. The captain reached for Mahmood, holding her tiny hand in his and heaving her to the surface. Her face was ashen when she looked at him. “Captain,” she stuttered, “you’re alive.”

He smiled at her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Good to see you too, Lieutenant. What happened?”

Rajax was the first to recover from her evident surprise. “We waited for Mister Spock until it started to look like he wasn’t coming back. We tried to find him but the tunnels were blocked, and the only way out was to go back.”

“We didn’t want to waste any more time, sir. I decided to set the tricorder to overdrive,” Mahmood tore her gaze away from the captain long enough to nod at Spock, “just like you did the first time, Commander.”

“A logical decision,” Spock nodded back.

“Captain,” Rajax said, “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, sir, but… how are you alive?”

A rumble, deep from the belly of the planet, interrupted them. A sudden gust of wind pushed through the bushes and trees, howling menacingly. Jim’s eyes met Spock’s.

“Taku,” he said.

As if summoned, thick vines burst out of the hole in the ground, fringed with tendrils that clutched the air like fingers. The world shook and wobbled around them; a perpetual earthquake. Trees toppled over, their roots coming alive, snapping off to crawl towards the landing party.

“Run!” Jim shouted.

They fled through the bushes; four silhouettes, blurred by movement and darkness. Instinct took them all out into the open field, where the sky was the widest. Black clouds veiled Taj 24, and heavy raindrops hit the ground, the plants, the back of Spock’s neck. The soil was alive, splintering once again, creating black gashes that tried to swallow them, pull them down into their depths.

Out of the corner of his eye Spock could make out a flicker of gold and black: the captain moving swiftly across the prairie, his small frame slicing through the air with impressive speed. They were all running away from the trees and vines, the claws that reached for them even as they escaped. What they had not anticipated –  _ could _ not, by any stretch of logic or the imagination – was the ground curling in on itself, rising and falling like waves, throwing their helpless bodies against the grass.

Flashes of lightning momentarily blinded them. Spock squeezed his eyes shut as he lost his balance and fell. He heard the captain’s cry of pain, saw him hold his injured leg. Another lurch – rocks fell from above, large as a man and heavy enough to crush one. Unable to stand up in time, Spock rolled onto his side to avoid being squashed. He looked up, eyes searching, frantic, desperate,  _ Jim _ .

But another voice was screaming in agony. Rawdha Mahmood, only a few meters behind him, was stuck under a boulder. She struggled for a second, her arms pushing and shoving uselessly before falling to the ground, where they remained motionless. Spock pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as the world shook and shook… He ran, breathless, and all he could think of were Mahmood’s words, the way they’d echoed through the tunnels:  _ out here… we only have each other _ .

He threw his body against the boulder with enough force to crack it open. Pain shot through his shoulder, but he did it again, and again, until the boulder and all its pieces slid off Mahmood’s unconscious form. Spock bent down and touched her neck, looking for a pulse. Yes, it was there; faint, but there.

“Mister Spock!” Rajax cried, crawling through the debris that littered the once peaceful valley. She placed two hands on Mahmood's stomach, using the third to wipe away dirt from her cheek.

“Ensign,” Spock said, “You must remain here with Mahmood; keep her safe.”

The Edosian’s eyes were wide and wet. Her voice was panicked. “There’s no place to hide, no place to run…”

Once again, Mahmood’s words came to him.  _ We do these small things for each other and they mean so much _ .  _ This only works if we’re in it together. _ “Listen to me, Rajax.” Spock’s hands found the ensign’s shoulders and held them reassuringly, the way he’d seen Jim do on countless occasions. “You are an excellent officer. You have shown great courage and dedication to your crew. You have my full confidence. You can keep her safe.”

Rajax swallowed, nodding slowly. “I’ll do my best, sir. But what about –”

“I know how to stop this.”

The words cut through him, decisive, determined. He knew how to stop this. It was, perhaps, the only way. It had started raining, a downpour that flooded everything around them. Rajax lifted her chin, smiling weakly. She placed one of her hands on Spock’s chest, an Edosian gesture of respect, and said, “I have faith in you, Mister Spock.”

Emotional support.  _ We’re in this together _ . He almost thanked her, but she looked away, turning to pull Mahmood’s head into her lap and gently cradle it. With one last glance at his crewmates, Spock set off in the captain’s direction.

The wind and rain whipped his face, but he still recognized Jim’s limping shadow from afar. Another, stronger earthquake sent them both tumbling. On his hands and knees, Spock did not stop until he reached Jim. He called his name.

“Spock!” Jim shouted over the howling of the wind and the roar of thunder above them, “we need to speak with Taku!”

The same thought had been repeating itself in Spock’s mind. He wrapped his fingers around Jim’s wrist, pulling him closer. The rain fell between them, like a curtain, but nothing could conceal the emotions dancing on their faces; flames in the wind.

“I must meld with you,” Spock whispered, and somehow Jim heard him.

This was it. It withered before him: his Vulcan heritage, his pride and fear and his fragmented identity – everything he had been so unwilling to give up. It was nothing,  _ nothing _ next to Jim’s life. To the breath that came, shaky, between those pink lips. To the hand that covered his own and squeezed.

“Meld with me, Spock.”

And he knew nothing, in that moment, but those words. No more sound, no more rain. Only the whirling words and here, here the freckle on Jim’s nose, the crease between his eyebrows, the color of his hair, this and this and this, and a thousand things more. Spock’s fingertips found Jim’s psi points easily. As if they’d been made for this.

“My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts… our minds are merging, our minds are becoming one…”

There was more to say, so much more, but no time… no time…

* * *

Bright. Warm. The beginning of something, the end of another. From the stars there came whirlpools of light and eddies of dust. Night and day. Ice and fire.  _ You and me _ .

Jim found himself somewhere above the world. Floating in space, among all the distant suns. Here, where no one has been before.

He saw the planet, gleaming below him. Blue and gray, its continents pressed together. And a single red rose, orbiting it like a satellite. He thought of Saint-Exupéry, the old storybook: ‘ _ I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind –’ _

The planet shifted. Suddenly, Jim noticed it was not a planet at all: it was Taku, curled up on itself, chin between its knees. It stretched, long limbs extending, outspread. It blinked, looking at him with its big black eyes.

“James T. Kirk.”

“Taku. Please, stop what you’re doing.”

Teeth, white and sharp and unforgiving. “Warning was given. Yet explosion was made. Again.”

“They didn’t know. They did it to save us. I promise we’ll help you. Spare us.”

Taku closed its eyes. It was silent for a moment, then: “Spared before... never again.”

Jim took a deep breath. “What happened to you, Taku, before? Did someone hurt you?” he said, softly.

Taku tilted its head to the side. Something made it pause, and it stared at him, as if searching his face. “I will show you,” it said.

It happened all at once. Images entered Jim’s mind, sparks and flashes: people, humanoids, walking and talking and breathing on a planet much like Earth. The ridges on their foreheads were star-shaped, and they gleamed with sweat from labor in the fields. A hundred years passed, then two hundred, twenty, fifty, centuries and centuries and there were buildings of all kinds, technology that brought comfort and relief.

Then came the destruction, like a storm. Devices used for probing and poking and cutting down trees. Animal carcasses lay rotting in the dirt and blood. Needles and spikes and knives, and things that smelled sterile and dead. Bitterness filling the air, choking every living thing except for the ones responsible, the ones who held the guns and pointed them wherever they wished. Masked faces leaned over the world and left it gray. Fish flopped on the oil-stained ground. Bullets and the sound of thunder, a million voices screaming, hands clawing at the sky. Then an explosion, immeasurable, killing everything, everything, and Taku’s earsplitting screech could be heard everywhere: in the air and above the clouds and underwater.

On a moonless night, there was a second explosion, coming from the belly of the planet. The atmosphere dissipated. The sun shrank to a grain of sand, and the sky grew eternally dark. Nature claimed what had once been hers: vines crawled into houses and chased out their occupants. The people fell like flies, one after the other. They did not move, did not get up.  _ Never again _ .

Jim returned to himself, shaken. “You… are the planet.”

Taku nodded.

“Those people,” Jim continued, “they lived here. They nearly destroyed you.”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you meant – that’s why you don’t trust us.”

It was obvious now. The first people to be injured had been Freeman, Hunjan and himself: all three carrying phasers. Later he and Spock had been attacked in the tunnels, after Taku’s warning. And now, right after the explosion caused by Rajax and Mahmood, it looked as if Taku had the intention of getting rid of them once and for all.

“We’re not like that,” Jim spoke slowly, “We were, once, but we’ve learned. We’ve changed.”

Taku squinted. “Only harm since arrival,” it said.

“I understand you’re scared.” He thought of the storm, the vines trying to choke them, Spock’s torn uniform and the look on his face,  _ I must meld with you… _ that was it. “Let me show you my planet. The way you showed me…”

Without waiting for an answer, Jim closed his eyes. He called up the images he knew of green, green Earth. Apples and pears and summer sunsets, evenings and family and sandcastles on the beach. Water flowing freely, the beauty of a sky bursting with stars. The trees lining the streets, people on bikes, hovercars powered by the sun. San Francisco bay, the clean air, the gardens at the Academy. The roses swaying in the breeze.

“We learned, Taku. We fixed what we’d broken a long time ago. We can help you.”

A shudder. A breath. “Fix…”

“Yes. And no one will ever harm you again. I promise you. Just trust me.”

Silence; long, uncertain. Jim ignored the dull ache in his leg, the churning of his stomach – his body, calling, trying to pull him back. There was a voice somewhere in the distance, Spock’s voice, calm and gentle, but Jim couldn’t make out the words he was saying. It was as if he was there, all around him, but not quite within reach.

Taku held its closed fist in front of Jim’s chest. “James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. No longer lost?”

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t know what –”

“Shared essence. Two in one. James T. Kirk and Spock.”

_ The bond _ . That was how Taku communicated with him; through his mental bond with Spock. Jim had suspected it, but the revelation shocked him all the same. He thought of the helplessness in his first officer’s voice when he’d told him…  _ another bond… I am a Vulcan _ … 

The rose still floated around Taku in circles. Jim plucked it out of the air. “I’m no longer lost,” he whispered.

Taku smiled. “I trust you, James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Plant and flower symbolism:**  
>  · Rose: symbolizes eternal love.


	7. Epilogue

Rajax, Mahmood and Sanders stood at the edge of the forest, communicators in hand. “Three to beam up, Mister Scott,” Rajax said.

They disappeared from the planet’s surface, shimmering then fading. Jim lifted his chin proudly. The science team sent by Starfleet Command had been impressed by his crew’s discovery.  _ New life _ … it always made him feel this way. Alive.

He looked around him at the field of blue and yellow flowers; the mountains in the distance, illuminated by his hoverlight. Planet Taku – now considered a life form of its own, protected under Federation law. Starfleet Command had also assigned a team of experts to the planet, to mend and restore it. They’d begun work immediately.

“ _ Scott to Captain Kirk – _ ”

“Kirk here.”

“ _ We’re ready to leave orbit, sir. _ ”

“Stand by, Scotty. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“ _ Aye, sir. _ ”

Standing alone, staring into the distance, Spock didn’t hear Jim stop and stand beside him. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps them standing side by side had simply become second nature, indistinguishable from everything else, the same as breathing. Jim looked ahead.

“ _ If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night _ ...”

Spock finally turned towards him. “I regret waiting so long.”

Jim shook his head. Even now, he found it unbearable to think of – the secrecy, the struggle, the self-inflicted silence. How Spock must have suffered, all this time. There would be a time where Jim would gather him in his arms and hold him and hold him and hold him until the universe collapsed on itself.

But not now. Now was for other things.

“Regret, Mister Spock?” he teased, amusement ringing in his voice.

The corners of Spock’s mouth twitched. “I am half-human, Captain.”

The quiet admission: not a complaint but a promise. Jim leaned in closer, his shoulder bumping gently into Spock’s. They looked at each other.

“I don’t mind,” Jim said. “I would have waited with you. I would have waited forever.”

Spock’s lips parted, only slightly, but he did not speak. He shifted, bringing them closer still. This proximity, lingering and yet so fragile, was like a memory, like a dream. Jim cleared his throat. “The bond. It was… hijacked by Taku, wasn’t it? Used as a bridge between its consciousness and mine?”

Spock nodded. “It is most probable that Taku sensed a surge of telepathic activity in your mind – a direct consequence of the bond. When we melded, I was locked out of our mental link. I was merely a vessel; it was with you that Taku wished to communicate.”

“Every time Taku showed itself, you were there in some way. I felt your presence but I couldn’t…”

_ Touch you _ , Jim wanted to say. Instead he watched his words slip away from him, replaced by the silence they’d always known.

“We could not truly be one, as long as Taku was there,” Spock said.

A breath; shuddering, nervous. “Do you want that, Spock? To be… one?”

Something seemed to fracture, right beneath the surface. Spock’s eyes were the most beautiful thing Jim had ever seen. One word, carrying years of longing. “Yes.”

And then Spock’s hands were on Jim’s face, trembling,  _ our minds are merging, our minds are becoming one _ . It was natural, it was easy. The image in the water, the mirage suddenly come true. A burst of light and color, and things sweeter than memories, sweeter than roses. Cool skin, dark hair, curiosity and kindness, here a birthmark, there the sound of his voice, this and this and this,  _ dearest to my heart, my truest friend, my t’hy’la _ …

There was fear too; of what this meant, of the walls that needed to fall, and the walls that needed to be rebuilt. Together, they quickly silenced it.  _ We’ll figure this out. Together. I can’t be afraid when I’m with you. _

Then a kiss – Jim’s lips pressed to the corner of Spock’s mouth, and Spock turning to receive it – finally, finally. Fingers interlaced, the softest sigh, and again,  _ t’hy’la _ ,  _ my t’hy’la _ .

They basked in the bond, the deepest connection of all, no reason, no logic, just the pure twining of two katras.

This bond – they were ready to call it love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“That which we call a rose  
>  By any other name would smell as sweet.” ___


End file.
